


Between Past and Present Tense

by punch_kicker15



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punch_kicker15/pseuds/punch_kicker15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Season 6 after Gone. Sparks fly when Oz returns to Sunnydale and offers to help Willow with her magic addiction. Can Oz and Willow rekindle their old feelings, or will their past wounds get in the way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Gone**

Willow sat on the sidewalk, staring at the ground, trying to force her brain to come up with something, anything, to say to Buffy. But her brain had been hard at work all day. It had come up with solutions for discovering invisible items. It had tracked down the mystery van. It had figured out how the particle ionization in Warren’s invisibility ray gun worked. And hardest of all, it had reminded her not to do any magic. Now it felt like every thought had to swim across a vast ocean just to get to the speech part of her brain.

A shadow crossed over them, and she looked up to see a familiar-but-unexpected face. "Oz." Her voice sounded flat, but she couldn't seem to summon even false cheer tonight. Was it a full moon tonight? She hadn't really paid attention.

"Hey," Oz replied. Taciturn as always. And on the bright side, he wasn’t wolfing-out,

Buffy asked, "Oz, what are you doing here?"

Oz sat down next to Buffy. "I came for my cousin's wedding."

That sparked curiosity in Willow's tired brain. "Your little cousin Jordy? The itty-bitty werewolf?"

Oz shook his head. "Different cousin. Are you ok? You look a little freaked."

Willow could feel a twitch start under her right eye; she was sure she'd have another jittery and sleepless night ahead of her, despite her exhaustion. "Pretty tired, actually. It was nice to see you, but I think we'd better get back home."

Just the thought of explaining everything that had happened since Oz left was exhausting.

***

The Bronze hadn't changed at all. Oz half-expected to see Devon and the rest of Dingoes on stage at any minute.

Xander hadn't changed much either, which meant he was the best person to ask what had happened in the last year and half. As Xander explained the desperate fight against a Hellgod, and everything else that followed, Oz felt pangs of guilt. He hadn't been there to help. He'd had good reasons for leaving, but it still cut to the quick to hear about how badly Buffy and Willow and the other Scoobies had suffered, and without much in the way of support.

"--and then those jerks kidnapped Willow and tried to kill Buffy, and now I think we're all caught up with current events." Xander swiveled on his barstool to face Oz. "So why are you here? ‘Cause if you heard that Will was single again and thought you'd just swoop in, now's not really a good time."

"It's coincidence. I'm here for a family wedding." But even as he said it, Oz wondered if there might be some good that might come of this coincidence. Maybe what he'd learned could help Willow.

***

Willow closed her eyes and rested her head on the pages of her textbook. When she’d signed up for the Mythological Creatures course, it had seemed like a clever way to combine her academic and Hellmouth-defender duties. Even after five years of researching mythological demons, there seemed to be a never-ending supply of new ones showing up in Sunnydale every week.

Right now, reading about grindilows, okubis, and lindworms made her think about magical defenses against them, and that led down the path to desperately wanting to use magic again. She drummed her fingers against the kitchen table, trying to figure out a way to pass this class without breaking her magic sobriety.

The knock on the door set her heart racing. Maybe it was Tara. Maybe they could work things out.

When she flung open the door it was Oz. He said, "Xander filled me in on what was going on, and I have a suggestion to make."

They were talking about her behind her back? Of course they were. That's what people did to addicts.

Oz said, "I've been working with a coven in San Luis Obispo to help me handle the wolf. They might be able to help you with your magic. If you wanna come down this weekend, I can drive you there."

A change of scene sounded wonderful right about now. But a worry niggled at her mind. "Would I have to stay at the coven? Because being surrounded by practicing witches might not be so hot for my recovery."

Oz said, super-tentatively, "You could stay with me."

***

In the moments after he made the offer, Oz saw the slight tremor under Willow’s eye before she schooled her face into a more neutral expression.

"Oz, not that I don't appreciate you offering, but are you sure that's--safe? I mean, I was the one thing that set you off the last time."

Of course she'd worry about that--it was the last time she'd seen him. "I don't think that would be a problem this time. I really do have it under control this time."

"No offense, but that's what you said--"  
  
"Yeah, I thought I had it under control back then. But later, when I started working with the coven, they helped me see that I'd been approaching it the wrong way.” He looked her in the eyes, hoping that she’d see the certainty he felt.  “I was trying to repress the wolf completely, and that was always going to break down under stress. What I needed to was embrace it, in a controlled way."

She tilted her head slightly, but didn't break eye contact. "So you wolf out on purpose now?"

"A couple times a month, yeah. But I'm in the driver's seat when I do it. No risk of eating innocent bystanders anymore."

Her gaze on him remained skeptical, but she asked, "Are you still mad at me about--Tara?"

  
It would be so easy to pretend that everything was fine. It would certainly make convincing her to come with him to the coven a lot easier. But she deserved the truth. Nothing good could come from convincing her to visit the coven under false pretenses.  
  
He took a long, measured breath, and said, "It still hurts sometimes. I just--if it were me, I would have waited for you."  
  
She asked, "Forever? Because I had no idea if you were ever coming back, or if you wanted anything to do with me if you did. When you sent for your stuff without telling me--"  
  
It wasn't anything he hadn't told himself in the months after his return to Sunnydale, but somehow coming from her, the words still stung. "And it really bothered me that you didn't tell me about Tara right away, even though we talked for hours--"  
  
"Gosh, Oz, that must have been terrible, me going a whole _twelve hours_ without communicating something important to you." And he was almost grateful for her anger and sarcasm, because she looked more animated, more alive than she had these last few days.  
  
Willow continued, "But it was perfectly ok for you to go months without letting me know if you were even alive!" Her voice shook on the last part. It seemed he wasn't the only one scarred by this.

  
He said, "I know. I wish I'd tried harder to let you know what I felt."  
  
She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, and the anger seemed to drain away. "I wish I'd handled it better, too. It was just so hard to talk about. It was so new that I hadn't even told Buffy or Xander about Tara back then. I honestly thought you'd moved on, and it was so confusing to find out that you hadn’t. I didn’t know how to explain things without hurting you."  
  
He nodded. "So, I guess we both were kinda mad at each other. I understand if you don't want to stay with me, but I think you should still give the coven a shot--"  
  
Willow gave him a sheepish smile. "These days, I'm kind of an expert on living with people who are mad at me. So why not?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Let's all welcome Willow to our meeting today," Sara chirped. She peered over her wide-rimmed glasses at Willow.

When Oz had said, "coven", Willow had imagined a vast network of hundreds of witches, in a sacred and remote valley full of trees.

Instead she was sitting on the floor of a living room in a suburban house that smelled more like cinnamon rolls than incense. And there were only half a dozen witches here. Also, the witches were middle-aged women dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, giving them more of a “PTA mom” vibe than “wise keepers of magic secrets” vibe.

"Is this--everyone?" she asked, wondering if that was a dumb question. Lately everything had felt like she'd been regressing back to her timid, pre-Buffy self. Like everything she did was wrong and stupid and bad.

Sara smiled. "Except for our online members, yes."

Online coven membership--what a great idea. Why hadn't she or Tara thought of that before?

Sara said, "The first thing we'll need to do is to test your powers."

Oh, no. That would just lead to badness. "But I--" 

"We can't help you without observing your magic in use." Sara's tone was firm, and then softened as she added, "We'll be able to stop you if your magic gets out of control.”

Oz leaned over and whispered, “They were able to hold me back one night when I was still learning how wolf out safely. They’ve got this.”

She wasn’t sure if Oz really understood how powerful she’d become, and whether these witches could really handle whatever she might throw at them. But what if these witches could find an easier way to manage her addiction? Maybe there were herbs or potions or even a spell that they could perform that could help. She ignored the tight ball of worry at the pit of her stomach.

“We'll need your emotional energies to be in alignment first, so we'll all meditate for a few minutes."

It seemed ridiculous. She was way too nervous for a little meditation to make a dent in her emotional state. But as she closed her eyes and breathed in, she began to feel the other witches breathe with her. As the other witches calmed with each inhalation and exhalation, Willow felt solid and safe in a way that she hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe since before Glory.

A few more minutes passed, and then Sara said, "I think we're ready for the test."

She held a small sandbox in front of Willow. "I want you to create patterns in the sand with magic."

Willow gripped the box tightly and focused on the grains of sand, trailing an uneven zigzag pattern through them. She waited for the gratification that usually came with completing spells, but it didn't happen.

She looked up to see the verdict, and saw only a row of poker faces.

Sara said, "That was a good start. Get some rest tonight, and we'll see you how you feel in the morning."

Willow asked, "What if something happens in the middle of the night?"

"We're all just a phone call away." Sara squeezed Willow’s shoulder gently, and smiled again.

Willow hoped they understood what they were offering. Her magic withdrawal symptoms had always been worst at night.

Oz tapped her shoulder. “Today’s a day when I wolf out. Usually do it here. I can take you back to my place first, if you want.”

Was it worse to stay here, with constant reminders of magic she couldn’t do, or alone in Oz’s apartment, with no one watching her?

“Um, I’m ok hanging here.”

***

Oz closed all of the curtains in the basement, undressed, and sat down on the floor. He closed his eyes and blocked out distractions, trying to identify all of the emotions drifting through him.

He breathed in, and caught Willow's unmistakable scent, bright and floral notes. She was scared, and part of him was scared for her, too. But Sara and her crew knew their stuff. He told himself that they'd figure things out.

Underneath that fear laid another: that his hard-won control would slip because she was here. He let himself sit with that fear, and then imagined it floating away on a cloud.

The scents began to fade out, leaving Oz alone with his thoughts. And then the annoyingly persistent thought popped up again: _Even with control, I'm still a monster._

He let that one float away, too, and then his mind felt quiet enough to begin the transformation.

It started with muscles expanding outward so fast it he was sure his skin would pop open. Then the sharp pain of claws materializing and extending from his fingers and toes. The fur came next, he thought, but he was distracted by the change in vision: as he lost the ability to see reds and greens, Sara's bright plaid curtains dulled into a series of brown and grey rectangles.

The neighbor's chihuahua started to yap. Part of Oz wanted to punish that dog as an unruly member of his pack, or tear him apart as an enemy. Instead he let out a high-pitched yelp, one that the humans upstairs couldn't hear. The chihuahua quieted down.

Scents that were barely noticeable earlier--lighter fluid from the grill in the backyard, the cinnamon and cloves from Sara's pastries, the cat sitting on the roof of the house--suddenly overwhelmed him.

His awareness of Willow intensified. There was still part of him that screamed _Mine!_ He told himself, _not anymore_ , _and not for a long time_.

He loped through the basement, the wolf-muscles stretching and flexing. It felt good, and as Sara had taught him, part of control was acknowledging and allowing the joys of the wolf, as long as no one got hurt.

After about an hour of running through the basement, Oz decided the wolf had gotten enough exercise. He sat down on his haunches, breathed in, and focused on returning to the human world.

***

Oz's apartment was pretty much exactly what Willow expected: sparsely decorated, with a few music posters and shelves full of records.

She put the pizza box on the kitchen table; Oz grabbed some paper plates.

Willow asked, “Are you with a new band? The last time I saw Devon, he said he was breaking up Dingoes and moving to Seattle.”

He sprinkled hot pepper flakes on his pizza. "No band right now. Pretty much needed to stay in one place for a while to work on wolf issues. I'm doing programming for Harmonix right now."

"Oh." It was hard to imagine. Unlike her, he wasn’t the dull kind of person that programmed computers just for fun.

Oz added, "There's a Japanese video game where you try to play the guitar. Harmonix wants to adapt the game for Americans. So at least there's a connection to music."

"Aren't you bored?" Willow asked.

"Sometimes." He gave her a wry smile. "But I had enough excitement at Sunnydale High to last a lifetime."

They dumped the plates in the trash and settled in front of the TV. A Simpsons rerun was on. As they giggled at Homer's adventures in college, it felt a little bit like she was back in high school. But the good, happy parts of high school.

When the show was over, he asked, "Are you sure you're ok sleeping on the futon in here? You can have the bed if you'd be more comfortable."

"Really, I'll be fine," Willow answered. "And I'm sure wolfing-out is pretty tiring. You need your rest." 

He looked ready to argue, but just nodded, accepting defeat in the "who can be the most accommodating" game. That was good, because Willow didn't feel like explaining the real reason--that she was expecting magic withdrawal symptoms, and would rather be out here in the living room, with the TV and other distractions. It would be better than being stuck in the bedroom because she was worried about waking him.

***

None of Oz's meditation techniques were working tonight. He tried adjusting his white noise machine, but his sense of hearing was too acute. All he could hear were the odd little fragments of sound at irregular intervals; the intermittent noise was jarring rather than soothing.

He kicked off the blankets and got out of bed. He opened the door to bedroom and padded out to the living room.

Willow was curled up on the futon, a small flashlight in hand, reading a book. She looked up at him with concern. "Did I wake you?"

"No," He crossed over to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. "Just kind of restless tonight."

"Yeah, me too," Willow confessed.

"Is it the magic? Do you need to call Sara?"

Willow shook her head. "The weird thing is that it’s _not_ the magic. It’s just me. I keep expecting the withdrawal symptoms to show up, and they aren't. It's not like I want them to happen, but I don't understand."

Oz sat down on the futon beside her. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you can explain what’s going on with my magic, no.”

There was an awkward silence; he had an idea of what was going on, but it was an answer she needed to find for herself.

Willow broke the silence. “Do you think it might help you sleep if I read to you? Sometimes, when you were wolf-y, I’d read to you, and I think it helped sometimes.”

He said, “You don’t need to--”

“It’s ok to let people help you sometimes.”

He felt an immediate defensive reaction; he’d gone to the coven for guidance. But he’d sought assistance for a problem that was literally life-and-death, and only after it had reached a crisis point. Maybe Willow had a point about accepting smaller offers of help.

He asked, “What are you reading? I’m not in the mood for Harry Potter, or anything else with werewolves in it.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I’m avoiding stories about magic, too.” She held up the book. “Mr. Pim Passes By, by A. A. Milne.”

“The Winnie-the-Pooh guy?” He couldn’t imagine Willow retreating to children’s books, even for comfort.

“That’s him. But he was a really good novelist and playwright, too. Anyway, this one’s great. No kids or magic or talking animals anywhere in sight. Just a lot of silly grown-up humans.”

She opened her book, and started to read.

Oz listened to her read about orange curtains and silly but devoted young lovers. The rhythms of her reading voice seemed familiar somehow, even though he couldn’t possibly remember her reading to him when he was the wolf. He closed his eyes, and let her voice drown out all of the annoying background noises.

When he awoke, there was a crick in his neck and a nagging sense of disorientation. He must have fallen asleep on the futon--next to Willow, who was leaning against his shoulder, the book still open in her lap.

He tried to disentangle himself without disturbing her. But she was leaning on him for support, and as he pulled away, her eyes blinked open.

She scooted away from him to the far side of the futon. “I’m sorry.” She was blushing, and with her sleep-mussed hair, she looked vulnerable and just plain adorable.

He’d tried dating other people. He’d tried being alone. Neither approach had worked. He was a total sap who was never going to move on from her.

***

No one seemed particularly surprised that Willow hadn’t shown any withdrawal symptoms. They just kept asking Willow to draw larger patterns in the sand, then even larger patterns in the grass in her backyard.

None of this made her feel the way she had at the Bronze with Amy. And the weekend was nearly over, and they hadn’t triggered any symptoms.

“This kinda feels like when your car engine is making a noise, and you take it to the mechanic, and then it just stops,” Willow said.

Sara just gave her one of those enigmatic looks. “We’ll keep working on it. Call us if you have problems back in Sunnydale.”


	3. Chapter 3

After a few weeks, the routine of hosting Willow on the weekends had started to set in, and Oz found himself looking forward to hearing about the latest events in Sunnydale, or what she’d learned in her classes that week, or whatever random topic happened to catch her interest. Or just being in the same room with her while she quietly read or studied. The apartment now seemed unnaturally quiet and still when she was away.

One Saturday, the comfortable routine was broken when Willow came back from the coven reeking of sadness.

“What’s wrong?” He hoped the coven hadn’t declared her a hopeless case.

“They said they don’t think I’m addicted to magic.” Her lower lip trembled, and it looked like she was holding back tears with extraordinary effort. “They think the withdrawal effects I had were psychosomatic. They think I should keep doing magic, and just learn how to control it.”

“Oh. Why is that bad news?”

She collapsed on the futon, pulled her knees up to her chest, and stared down at the floor. Her voice lowered to a barely perceptible whisper. “If I’m not addicted, then every bad thing I did with magic is my fault. And then I convinced myself that was addicted so I wouldn’t have to be responsible for it. I’ve been horribly selfish.”

“Ok,” Oz said.

That made her look up at him. “Seriously? You’re completely cool with that?” And then she crumpled again, and said softly, “Or did you already figure that out a long time ago?”

Oz sat down beside her. “No. What I mean is, if you’re selfish, then join the club. We’re all selfish. I nearly got you killed because I didn’t want Buffy to kill Veruca. That was selfish. Buffy abandoned the mission on graduation day, because thought saving Angel was more important than stopping the Mayor. And that was selfish. Giles left you to defend the Hellmouth, because wanted to go back to England and grieve. That was selfish, too. So you’re not that special just because you had some selfish moments.”

She started to cry, curled herself up so tightly it looked like she wanted to disappear. As always, he wished for something, anything to make her feel better.

But he’d learned that trying to ignore negative emotions and pain would just prolong them. Better to let her work through them, no matter how much it tore at his heart.

She sniffled, and dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex. Then she clenched her jaw and composed herself. “So how do you live with being selfish?”

From her tone, he understood the question wasn’t about how he, personally lived with it, but how anyone did. “Just by being aware of it. Stopping and thinking about whether there’s some selfish component in what you’re doing, and how much of that is a factor.”

She said, “That sounds--hard.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s complicated. Always.” He wouldn’t sugar-coat it for her.

***

**Older and Far Away**

The lavender in Sara’s backyard had its first bloom; Willow knelt in the grass with a pair of gardening gloves and a basket and started picking. The sun beat down on the back of her neck, sending a trickle of sweat dripping down her back.

She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice Oz approach until he crouched down right next to her. “Can I help?”

“Yeah, we’re just picking the ones that have a few flowers open. If half the flowers are open, it’s too late for them.”

Oz sat down and plucked a few lavender stems.

“Oz, there’s a--” Willow bit her lip, feeling oddly nervous. She’d been having little flashes of attraction to him, ever since they’d fallen asleep on the futon together. But that had to be just nostalgia or something like that. This wasn’t asking him on a date; she was still getting over the breakup with Tara.

He was waiting patiently for her to finish her question.

“There’s a birthday party for Buffy, and I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

He stripped a branch of flowers. “I don’t know--Buffy’s birthdays have been kind of fun-free.”

“But maybe this year will be the one where she gets a good birthday.” She added, “And if it’s not, I’d rather be fighting demons with friends than have a quiet night at home.”

He smiled. “All right. Put me down for a night of fun or demon fighting.”

***

Buffy’s party was officially a disaster. Willow wanted to smack her few-days-ago-self for being so stupidly optimistic to think the universe owed Buffy a normal happy birthday. No, of course, the universe hated Buffy, so now they were stuck in a house, for some unknown reason.

Even worse, Buffy wanted to use magic to escape the house.

Tara said, “It's just, obviously I didn't bring any supplies.”

Buffy said, “Well, we don't have any in the house. We got rid of everything.”

“Um, I do have some supplies here,” Willow said, and cringed under Tara’s disapproving glare. Buffy looked un-thrilled, too, but it was Tara’s look that scorched. Willow was about to explain why she had them, but before she did, Tara jumped in.

“Just bring me what you have. But I'm doing this alone. You need to stay away from it.” She stalked off to the kitchen.

Willow waited by the front door with Spike, Anya, and Oz. Then Xander’s friend Richard came downstairs, upset about something. Willow was focused on the scent of burning herbs. Finally Tara called out, “Release!” and then “Try the door.”

Spike struggled to open the door. Willow could feel magic under the tip of her tongue. Tara had released something, but it wasn’t the door.

Then a demon came crashing through the living room with a sword. Willow scrambled away, trying to think of a defensive spell that wouldn’t backfire. While she hesitated, the demon slashed Richard across the stomach.

There was a quick scuffle as Buffy and Spike tried to capture the demon. Then the demon disappeared.

Willow knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t shake the thought, _at least I’m not the only one whose magic has unintended consequences._

***

After hours of trying and failing to kill the demon, everyone’s nerves were on edge. Willow listened to everyone argue about what do next.

Anya said, “We're sitting here with an incredibly powerful witch ... much more powerful than you, Tara, I'm sorry ... only no one seems willing to say it.”

Oz said, “Think we should talk about the work you’ve been doing lately.”

She wanted to crawl under the sofa and just disappear. “Uh, this isn’t the way I wanted to bring this up. The coven thinks that I can learn to magic responsibly.”

Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. Xander ignored this and said brightly, “Well, now’s your chance to prove them right.”

“But--when Tara tried, she released a demon,” Willow felt more than a little awkward to argue against doing a spell, but If she was going to apply the lessons she’d learned from the coven, it would have to start somewhere.

“Because she wasn’t strong enough to do it right.” Anya’s voice was taking on that nails-on-a-strident tone that made Willow long for a muting spell--no, noise-canceling headphones. No need for a magical solution when a technological one existed.

“Or maybe throwing more power at it might release even more demons. Maybe we’re approaching this from the wrong angle.” Willow shot back.

“Why are you suddenly arguing for caution when your magic might actually be useful, instead of your usual power-tripping?” Anya’s voice had gone from strident to venomous.

Tara glared at Anya. “She said no, and that's it. You're not gonna make her do something that she doesn't want to.”

Wow. Tara was standing up for her. She hadn’t expected that.

Oz said, “Ok, but we need a backup plan for our guy up there. Gut wounds are nothing to play around with.”

Something about his tone made it sound like this was something Oz had learned first-hand. And that sent a shiver of worry through her. But whatever had happened to Oz was a question for some time later. Because Oz was right. How had this argument gotten so far away from Xander’s friend upstairs?

“I could try a healing spell. That could buy us time,” Willow suggested.

“Oh, Willow.” Tara’s Disapproval Face returned in full force.

Disappointment stabbed at her heart. Tara wasn’t supporting Willow. She was supporting Willow’s abstention from magic.

There was no time for hurt feelings now. Time to try to save a life. No matter how far she’d fallen away in the last few months, life-saving was the reason she’d started learning magic.

***

Oz helped Willow carry magic ingredients upstairs.

Willow burned twice-blessed sage. His nostrils filled with the scent, and his eyes began to water. Under any other circumstances, he would have left the room to clear his head. But Willow needed someone who was here for her. Not Anya and Xander, who saw her as a solution to their current entrapment. Not Tara and Buffy, who were invested in Willow’s magic sobriety.

She looked at him, and said, “If things get out of control, get Tara. And Anya--she knows her way around a spell or two.”

He nodded. “Ok, but I know you can do this.”

She rolled her eyes at that, but turned to Richard, and put a hand on his belly.

Oz felt the air start to quiver with Willow’s magic. Drops of sweat broke out on her forehead, and for a moment, her eyes flashed black. The air crackled with electricity, and then Willow, her voice shaking, said, “Let the spell be ended.”

The air went still again. Richard woke up. He looked at his surroundings. “Must have had too much to drink. I don’t remember anything about how I got here, and I had the weirdest dream.”

They helped him downstairs, where Anya stood with a triumphant expression on her face. “We can go now. I just got us out.”

Tara glanced at Willow, and then turned and hurried away.

“You alright?” Oz asked.

She shook her head. “I just feel all cringe-y and guilty when I’m around her.” She stared off in Tara’s direction. “She doesn’t trust me. And she doesn’t have any reason to. I broke it, and I can’t fix it.”

_I know exactly how you feel._

But his empathy wouldn’t help her in this situation, so he just said, “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

***

**Hells Bells**

Willow let herself into Oz's apartment. "Hey, what smells so good?"

Oz called out, "Pork vindaloo and tandoori chicken from Taj Palace." He put plates on the kitchen table next to the takeout containers. They sat down and started eating.

"Did I misunderstand something on the phone last night, or did Xander just leave town, even though he loves Anya?" Oz tilted his head slightly, looking slightly quizzical, which Willow understood as an Oz-expression of complete incredulity; the Willow-equivalent expression would be opening her mouth wide and gaping like an idiot.

"Yeah, please don't ask me to explain it, because I don't get it, either." She spooned some pork vindaloo over her rice, and handed the container to him.

"It's just, after watching me make the biggest mistake of my life, he learned nothing from it? He thinks he can hurt Anya, leave, and then maybe pick things up again like nothing had happened?"

Willow felt her face flush, and not just from the vindaloo spices. "What do you mean, the biggest mistake of your life?"

Oz broke off a piece of naan. "Thought that was obvious."

This was just--weird. She shoved some rice around on her plate, trying to figure out how he could possibly say that. But the only way to truly know was to ask.

"I don't understand why it was such a big mistake, since you weren't really into me. You thought Wolf Girl was way hotter. Why wouldn't you want to find someone who was hot like her, but without all of the annoying murdery character flaws? Don't you want something more than just a cerebral relationship?" Her voice was shaking, which was so annoying--why couldn't she figure out some way to hide her feelings, instead of wearing them on her sleeve all the time?

"I could have had that with you, if I--"

"Enough with the revisionist history, Oz! I was around when it happened. It took the freaking Apocalypse to get you to have sex with me!"  Wow, she hadn't realized she was still carrying that particular insecurity around.

Oz flinched, but didn’t look away. "What I was going to say was that I could have had that with you, if I hadn't been terrified of hurting you. With Veruca, it was powerful because I knew I couldn’t hurt her, so I could just let go. But I underestimated how tough you are. You fought a god and raised the dead. The wolf was no big compared to that. I think if I'd stayed, if I'd trusted you to protect yourself, it could have been powerful, too." A rueful smile crossed over his face. "Or Tara could have shown up and none of that would have mattered anyway."

"Yeah," Willow said, even though she wasn't sure how true that was. The Oz-missage had been so painful when she and Tara had met; it had permeated every interaction that she'd had with Tara for months. What would it have been like to meet Tara without it? Would Tara have ever expressed an interest in a girl who had a boyfriend? And would Willow have even looked at Tara if Oz had been there? There were too many ifs, and Willow wished she could say that she would have fallen in love with Tara no matter what. Or that she’d stopped being attracted to Oz once Tara entered the picture. That would be simple.

Unfortunately, nothing was simple lately.


	4. Chapter 4

**Normal Again**

_Boil the mixture until it is reduced by a third, add gingko and boil again until the mixture is reduced by one half . . ._

Willow tried to focus on the extraction procedure for the antidote, but her thoughts kept going around, Amy-on-her-wheel fashion, about Buffy and the demon and Xander and Spike. Should she have tried to capture the demon with magic? Was sending Xander and Spike the prudent thing to do--avoiding magic unless absolutely necessary? Or was it yet another selfish decision, sending them into danger so Willow could avoid getting more flak about using magic again?

When Oz finally walked through the door, she could feel her worries finally recede a little, which wasn't entirely logical. Oz wasn't a therapist or an expert on demon-induced delusions.

He put a Starbucks take-out box on the table. "Thought you might need some caffeine." Ok, he was an expert on Willow-support right now, because she was dying for a mocha. She grabbed one and sipped slowly, willing the caffeine to do its work on her headache and fatigue. If she got a little excitable and chatty later on, everyone else would just have to deal with it

Oz leaned against the kitchen counter. "How is she?"

"Still thinking she's in an asylum. We figured out that she was stung by a Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik, so Xander and Spike are out hunting it so I can make an antidote."

Oz asked, "Where was she when she was stung? Maybe we can help narrow down the search for them."

"She was looking for Warren--" and then she paused, because it just seemed too much of a coincidence, even with the Hellmouth teeming with demons.  
  
Oz seemed to be on the same track. “Maybe we should be looking for him, too."

"I need to focus on the antidote right now."

"Right. But if you give me something that has a little of Warren's scent on it, I might be able to track him."

Willow thought for a moment, then ran upstairs and rummaged through a desk drawer, until she found what she'd been hoarding, pack-rat style, in case she'd ever need it again.

She ran back downstairs to Oz. "This is the invisibility ray Warren built. Be careful with it--if you turn, this setting here, you’ll make someone invisible, which causes molecular dissolution. This setting reverses it; and this setting accelerates it. Someone could die if the molecular dissolution isn’t reversed."

Just then Xander and Spike burst in, wrestling an uncooperative demon.

After they'd subdued the demon and removed the stinger, Oz glanced at Willow.

She placed the stinger in a mortar and started pounding it with a pestle. "I've got this. Go."

***

Oz sniffed the invisibility ray Willow had given him, trying to find Warren's scent. Mostly the ray smelled like fiberglass, glue, metal, and Willow. He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and found a very faint human scent lurking underneath all of the rest.

That scent triggered memories. A dark-haired boy who wandered the halls of Sunnydale High with a chip on his shoulder. Oz had been relieved when that boy transferred to another high school or college or whatever it was. There was something about Warren that Oz had found rather freaksome back then.

He shoved the invisibility ray into the back of his van and started driving, windows open, breathing slowly and deeply.

After about thirty minutes of driving around Sunnydale, he picked up Warren's scent in one of housing developments near UC-Sunnydale. It made sense--Warren could blend in with other twenty-something college students who kept odd hours.

He edged the van closer to the source of the scent. There was a familiar odor underneath it--a mix of clay and tar. Oz pulled over to the side of the road, and turned off the ignition, focusing only on his inhalations.

Where had he encountered that odor before? The high school library, right before they blew it up. Wherever Warren was, he was near explosives.

_Guess if I ever need another job, I can be one of those bomb-sniffing dogs at the airport._

He wondered for a moment if he should call for backup, or investigate right away. And then he remembered there was an invisibility ray in the back of his van.

***

Willow hovered over the stove, scraping the eggs to the side of the pan. Maybe she should add some cheese for an extra energy boost for Buffy. She turned to the refrigerator, just in time to see a wild-eyed Buffy swing a frying pan towards her head.

It was pure instinct that sent the words out of her mouth: " _Thicken_ ," and the magic pulsed from her hands, holding Buffy back.

Buffy thrashed against the magic so violently that Willow could feel it, like fingernails scratching her skin.

"Willow! Why won't you let me go? I want to stay there, and you keep pulling me back here!" Buffy howled

Willow's breath caught in her chest. Buffy was happier--in an insane asylum, because this life hurt so much. And it was all Willow's fault. She ached to do something, anything to make Buffy's pain stop. Magical solutions tumbled through her mind--a spell to get inside Buffy's mind again, Lethe's Bramble, teleporting someone from the coven, or Giles to fix this

But maybe any fix she might try would make things worse. She held the barrier firm, and said, through gritted teeth, "If I thought you were in your right mind, and not hopped up on demon venom, I'd let you go. But there's no way I'm gonna do that before we get poison out of your system."

She took the eggs off the stove, and started mixing another batch of antidote.

***

Oz waved his hand in front of his face, then checked the van's mirror to make sure the invisibility ray had worked on his whole body. His plan wouldn't work if the ray had only worked on his head.

When he was sure that he was completely invisible, he shoved the ray under the passenger seat of the van and moved slowly and quietly, tracking Warren’s scent to its source.

He waited outside the house, listening intently. Jonathan was arguing with someone. "You've got to be kidding me! The Defiant is a warship. The Enterprise is built for exploration--"

"--but Picard used the Enterprise to defeat the Borg, the deadliest threat the Federation ever faced--"

"No way. The Dominion was a much bigger threat. The Borg didn't understand anything but force. The Dominion were master manipulators, and that made them way more dangerous."

Oz crept closer to one of the windows and peered into the room. Jonathan and a red-haired boy (who must be Andrew) sat in front of computer screens.  Warren was tinkering with a small handheld device--it might be a detonator.

Andrew turned away from his computer screen. "But Sisko didn't win the war with the Defiant. He won it because of Damar's fierce Cardassian patriotism and Kira's talent for terrorism. And they still might have lost if wasn't for Odo's grand sacrifice in returning to the Great Link."

"Will you two geniuses stop arguing about Star Trek and check on Buffy?" Warren asked

Andrew glanced at his screen. "They brought in the demon a few hours ago." He pushed a few buttons. "Looks like Willow has her in some kind of magic bubble thing. It's wicked cool. Jonathan, could you learn how to do that?"

The hair on Oz's arms raised up. They had some sort of video surveillance on Willow and Buffy. Also, it sounded like things had deteriorated since he’d left.

"Time for a Doublemeat run. Andrew, you're up." Warren got up and checked another monitor.

Oz positioned himself near the front door. When Andrew opened the door, Oz slipped inside. He stepped as quietly as he could into the hallway, following the scent of explosives. If he could get some idea of the size of Warren's arsenal, he could report back.

One of the floorboards creaked, and Oz froze, holding his breath.

"Did you hear something?" Jonathan asked.

"It's probably just the wind. Get back to researching those orbs." Warren's voice dripped with mixture of irritation and contempt.  "I'm going to keep watching the Slayer Network."

Oz could hear a drawer opening, and suddenly Warren jumped into the hallway. He looked straight at Oz through infrared goggles, and tackled him to the ground.

"That was one big flaw I hadn't fixed yet. The ray doesn't mask your body heat."

Oz pushed against Warren's chest in a futile effort to get back up.

"Dude, why are you here? Rosenberg's a dyke now--getting whipped by her is pretty pathetic." Warren pushed his knee harder into Oz's chest, squeezing air out of his lungs.

Jonathan yelled, "What's going on?"

Warren said, "We've got an intruder. Go get some rope."

The reds and greens in the room start to fade. Oz’s heart started pounding with the anxiety of potentially losing control, but he didn't fight the transformation. He had to get back to Willow and Buffy and warn them.  His clothes began to feel more and more confining as he allowed the wolf to emerge. When his clothes finally burst at the seams, setting the wolf completely free, Oz surged up, knocking Warren to the floor.

Jonathan peered out the door to the computer room. Oz growled with all of the fury in his heart, and Jonathan yelped and closed the door.

Oz bit down on the back of Warren's shirt, and smashed his head against the wall. After three satisfying thunks, Warren's body went limp. Oz's fangs itched to rip into his prey's throat and protect his pack.

But if he wanted to be a man and not just a wolf, he needed to solve things without violence, if he could. He dragged his prey down the hall, and nudged the front door open with his nose.

He reached the van and started the calming exercises to revert to human form.

When he could see color again, he surveyed the damage: Warren was bruised and covered with dirt and leaves, but otherwise seemed in decent shape for someone who'd been knocked out and dragged several hundred yards by a werewolf.

Oz dug through his unexpected-werewolf-emergency box and found some chains that would hold Warren. He dragged him into the back of the van, wincing as his thigh muscles buckled under the other man's weight. Some things were definitely easier to manage with wolf-strength.

With Warren sufficiently restrained, Oz grabbed a spare set of clothes from the box, and dressed quickly. Then he turned the invisibility ray on himself and made himself visible again.

It was several minutes before his hands were steady enough to drive back to Buffy's house.

***

"Let me out, you bitch, or I swear you'll all regret it!" Warren thrashed against the magic barrier.

Willow dug her fingernails into her palms, hoping Buffy couldn’t hear it. She needed her rest after finally returning to reality.

A formidable-looking trio of warlocks pulled Warren out of the house.

Willow sent a telepathic message to Sara: _What happens to Warren and Jonathan and Andrew now? Do they go to a Technopagan jail?_

  
_I think they’ll try rehabilitation first._ Sara must have sensed Willow’s skepticism through the telepathic connection, because she added, _These boys aren’t the first to misuse technology and magic. The Brotherhood of Hephaestus has lots of experience teaching people who want to use their talents more productively. And plenty of experience containing people who don’t._

Willow thought, _Good to know_. _Thanks for sending the Brotherhood here so quickly. See you this weekend._

Oz came down the stairs and joined Willow on the couch. He looked as tired as Willow, but had a determined look on his face. He said, “There’s something I want to tell you, if you feel like talking right now.”

Anticipation fluttered in her chest. “Sure. Go ahead.”

He took her hand in his. “I want to move back to Sunnydale. I want to start helping you guys again. I’ve learned enough now that you don’t need to worry about the wolf anymore.”

She felt a twinge of disappointment, and she couldn’t ignore the reason for it. Might as well get it out of the way, so she’d know one way or the other. “Oz, do you still feel like we could have worked things out if you’d stayed?”

“Sure. But I don’t expect anything from you.”

She wished she had something eloquent to say. She blurted out, “Because I’d still, if you’d still.”

Oz touched her face, “I’d still. I’d very still.”

They’d said those words a long time ago, when they were both different people. But as her lips brushed his, it didn’t feel like regression. It felt like they were reclaiming something precious from their past to create a happier present and future.

 

 


End file.
